"Fair to middlin'...," she says, visibly, audibly, olfactorily tired. Like a threshold, I think to myself but say nothing since she looks and sounds unready for clever or even philosophical fat chewing. "How have you been?" I had asked reflexively. "Fine, and you?" That's what I expected if I expected anything at all. But instead, a verbal grimace, "Fair to middlin'." I can't help but prologue her ...